by Amanda Twigg
Jex snatched the instrument away. “Stop. Just stop.”
“What?” Toby said. “That thing makes an awful noise, though. I think it’s broken.”
“Really?” Jex settled the instrument beneath his chin. He slid the bow across the strings and turned the pegs until the tone stilled his aura. His next note filled the room with a sweet, mournful sound, so he closed his eyes and played.
Haunting. Beautiful. Sad.
Landra had heard muted Templer songs on her platform visit and harmonious tunes from Oakham’s vision, but Jex’s playing reached into her heart in a way they hadn’t managed. Those other songs had skimmed over her aura like a skipping stone, but this poignant melody resonated in her Soul and wove the sad story of Jex’s life. Homesickness, grief, frustration, fear.
Emotion squeezed Landra’s chest, and tension drew her eyes to slits. If she was ever going to release the hold she had on her feelings for Jex, it would be now. Her aura eddies fell in time with his blue patterns as she attuned to his Soul, but her grief was greater than his, her pain more consuming, and the force of her emotions too powerful for any song to hold. This is too much. It was a road she couldn’t go down.
Tears sparkled in Maddon’s eyes, the oldsters hunched with grief, and Pearly frowned as if sharing every note. Milleta hugged a toy flute to her chest, her eyes goggling. A sob grew in Landra’s chest, but she couldn’t release it to the world. The last time she’d cried had been on Thisk’s chest. She missed the ranger, feeling safe, and having no doubts about her life path. She longed for training routines, Winton’s discipline, and the fellowship of living with soldiers. Instead of easing her pain, the song made her remember.
Can’t cry. If I let this terrible knot free, I’m lost.
Pearly joined in with Jex’s playing, her aura twisting through the keyboard as her fingers worked. Her voice added a beautiful and terrible counterpoint to the melody, weaving the same hypnotic glamour that Chanda had used.
Too much. Wait. Glamour?
Landra’s spine straightened as she woke to the music’s hypnotic effect. It still drew her in, cleaved her emotional wounds open, and dragged her to the brink of vulnerability. Maybe that was the point—what it took to wake magic—but this wasn’t a road she could afford to take or had the desire to travel.
I’m so weak. Hadn’t I just planned escape? Yet I submit to the first magical invitation to come my way.
She rose and locked her boundaries tight, so the song played through her ears rather than resonating in her aura. Setting her jaw, she buried her memories and started to run. Gertha took one look at her face and opened the door so she could flee.
Thisk’s humming ban made sense now. Music was disarming. Dangerous, even. She pressed her shoulder against the testing room door—locked. If it had opened, she was sure to have left through whichever exit yielded. Shower room—locked. Medic’s room—locked. Shelk. There was no way out.
She returned to her quarters and flung herself on the bed. There was no rest, no justice, and no release from her past or hope for her future. Jex had shown her a true Soul connection, but it was like a guilty treat she feared to share. Instead of soothing her Soul, the experience had enhanced her resentment and grief, leaving only confusion. The constant battle between her Warrior strength and magical Soul raged fiercer than ever.
Who am I kidding? This fight’s not even. If it takes singing to pass the temple test, I haven’t a chance.
Dennark stuck his head around the door.
Not now.
“No Soul for music, Hux?”
Too much. Enough to hurt. She wiped her face on a sleeve and composed her voice as she sat up. “You left the concert too. Magic not working, Den?”
“Building up to it, girl. At least I have a chance to join the temple. Looks like you’re going to wash out.”
Stupid man. He’d echoed her thoughts, but hadn’t he picked up on the ice in her voice? Hadn’t he taken warning from the set of her shoulders?
“What’s the matter, Hux? Aren’t you going to argue?”
You won’t like it if I do. For all your robes and big talk, your aura hasn’t grown either, old man. Just go away.
Dennark chuckled.
Bastard. She gathered enough rage to take on the combined soldiers of the six cities and focused it into a crystalized point centered on the old man. She tumbled to her feet, crossed the room with a fighter’s speed, and grabbed him by the throat. Her body pressed his frail bones against the doorframe. “If I were a Hux, you’d be on the exile pod now, and I’d drop you so far out, there’d be no reclaiming your evil corpse. But me? I’d sooner cut your throat now and be done.” It wasn’t true, but she wanted him gone.
Her grip squeezed too tight for Dennark to speak, but his goggling eyes shone with panic. She held him long enough to press the message home before releasing her grip. Staring at his crumpling form, she wanted to blame the old man for all she’d endured and become. Can’t. This one’s on me. I’m really not a Hux anymore. Dennark just had the misfortune of being here when her emotions exploded, and he really was such a little shit.
“Get out, and don’t come back,” she said.
Rather than watch him struggle, she settled onto the bed and turned her back. There were groans and scuffles, followed by the creak of an opening door.
“Love nest’s all yours,” Dennark said before he clanged it shut.
Love nest? Is that what you think? Shelk.
Chapter 34
Much as Landra wanted to forget the old man’s jibe, she dreaded Jex’s return. Ossek had ordered them to share a private space so they could copulate. Copulate! With Dennark gone, would it be expected now? She averted her gaze when the engineer arrived, but his aura pulsed against her boundaries like a surging heartbeat.
“Lan?” he said.
“What?” It came out harsh.
“Where’s Den?”
“Gone.”
“Gone? Does that mean…?”
Oh gods. Are you asking if we should have sex now that he’s out of the way? Do you think you can sing me a song, and I’ll swoon? She surged from the bed, certain she was being unfair and that this was all in her head. Had Jex ever been anything but a gentleman? Sure, he took every chance to be at her side and his aura suggested he wanted more, but he’d never… The sight of him froze her. New pink flashes darted through his blue shades, and music-induced passion surged through his rampant aura in a fiery display. Her decision to keep him at a distance held.
“I need to show you something,” he said.
Before Landra could react, he retrieved his elba pot from a pocket and held it out. A new shoot protruded through the soil. She gawked. Had he germinated it with magic? Surely not, but how could she deny the evidence? The tender plant looked greener than a remote land shoot, and Jex’s aura rippled with pleasure as it touched the leaves.
“How?” she asked.
“The music, I suppose. Playing arouses my passion.”
I can see that. His excited aura lines focused on his plant, but there was more emotion in his swirling colors than she could read. Leaning in, she took a closer look at his prize. The initial shoot culminated in two tiny leaves lined with narrow pink veins of power. “It’s unbelievable. Did you water it?”
“Course not, Lan. Magic’s the reason I came to the temple. If I can combine Soul power with my engineering designs, there’s a chance to end our power shortages. Wouldn’t it be great to keep every sector heated, have more food, and use the pod cars again?”
More than great. You could save us all.
She bit her lip to contain an embarrassed laugh. “I have to own up. When you ran in so excited, I thought…” Admitting her mistake was tough. “I was worried you’d come back to follow Ossek’s order.”
“Order?”
“You know. To have sex.” Her cheeks warmed.
Swirling aura patterns betrayed emotion that didn’t show in the engineer’s face. “Would that be so bad?”
Shelk. This was the reason she’d worried. With one sentence and a betraying bulge in his robe, Jex went from friend to threat. I really should trust my instincts. Aura signs are never wrong. She couldn’t speak.
“Only if you want to,” he added.
And that’s in your aura, too, Leeman Jextan. Should have believed it before.
This wasn’t Mendog, with his unnatural desires and no self-control. Jex’s honor and respect shone through his colors like a beacon. She regretted her doubts but recognized them as a symptom of her emotional wounds, which hadn’t healed.
As honorable as Jex might be, he looked intent. Shelking music’s fault. Should be banned. Now, she had to extricate herself from the situation without hurting his feelings. “You don’t really want to bed a murdering rogue ranger, do you?”
“Come off it, Lan. I never believed that stuff.”
“You did, when you refused to give me your pin.”
“But I know you better now.”
Not really. She saw passion in his aura that didn’t focus on the plant alone. Was that only an effect of the music or had she she’d encouraged him somehow? It was time to close the path that she had no way to take rather than leave him with hope. Setting her features tight, she folded her arms and shook her head.
Jex stilled. “There are only six of us left. You, me, Den, doctor death, the old man, and the boy. We’re falling quicker than glider shelk, and I’d like some friends to come along when I enter the temple. If sharing a bed saves you from death in the underlevel, isn’t it worth a try?”
No. She couldn’t share her body, and her heart belonged to Bexter. A weight settled on her chest as she realized how true that was. No matter how unattainable the soldier was, their shared aura touch had captured her soul.
“So, you want to do this to help me?” she asked.
Jex stepped close, his dark eyes full of compassion and lust. “Mostly, but it’s been a long time since—”
“Stop,” Landra said. “Whatever your hoping for, I can’t. I’m too… broken.” There, I’ve said it. You might not know my real name, but you have my biggest truth of all.
Raging passion still flared through Jex’s aura, but he ceased his approach with a soldier’s discipline. More understanding danced through his aura now, dampening his pink passion beneath blocks of angry blue. His chest swelled with a huge sigh. “I understand, and I won’t press again, but let me know if you change your mind. There may be another way.”
“To have sex?”
“To wake your magic.”
Ah. There was another thing that Landra was conflicted about. Her priority was to escape, but until she found a way out, magic had a place. “How?”
At her dubious expression, Jex grinned. “Lanya Bexter, I’m going to teach you to sing.” If he picked up on her doubts, he ignored them, and his grin looked too wide for comfort. “But before we begin, I really am going to need a cold shower.”
Classes took up most of the day, so they didn’t manage to fit in a music lesson. Landra went to bed relieved, and Jex couldn’t have been bothered either because a stupid grin twisted his face as he slept. He cradled his young elba plant in his arms, like it was a newborn. With Den gone and the demons between her and Jex slain, Landra fell into a dreamless rest.
Deep in the night, Gertha woke her, his shadowy figure hanging over the bed. “Get up.”
So, this is it. She didn’t argue. As the administrator escorted her out, she caught Jex’s stare. He was awake, saying nothing, and his foolish grin had slipped. There’d be no sex, no singing, and no magic. She didn’t blame him for staying silent. Any underdweller would have done the same. They were the dregs—powerless victims who accepted loss as an everyday event. A little food and warmth didn’t make them forget.
Goodbye, Jex. Save our people if you can. Looks like I’m done.
Chapter 35
Frustration dominated Landra’s mood. I’m leaving without supplies. Can’t do anything about that now. I’m going to die. She viewed the prospect with the resignation of someone who’d cheated fate for too long, but her knees wobbled. I stopped thinking this would come. I should have prepared.
“Did you bring your seed?” Gertha asked.
She tapped her robe pocket and felt the hard pot bang her hip. “D’you want it now, Templer?” He could take the elba for all she cared, but she’d fight him rather than give up the robe.
“Bring it along.”
To the underlevel? Ossek will skin us both.
Gertha unlocked the testing room door and waited for Landra to enter. The boxed chains carried a faint glow of residual power, giving her some vision in the dimmed room.
And Chanda thought he’d wiped them clean. The man doesn’t recognize magic when it’s right before him, so why am I the one being kicked out? She made her way through the desks and approached the door on the right, but her escort beamed light from his staff to brighten the panel on the left.
“This way”—he opened the temple entrance—“but don’t get ideas. This doesn’t mean you’ve graduated to the main temple. Someone wants to see you, that’s all.”
Reprieve? Confrontation? Uncertainty churned her guts more than the prospect of an underlevel death. A spiral staircase and open corridor later, she recognized her location. She trailed her fingers over the barrier and could nearly touch the temple’s forest leaves. A level below, the sight of the platform made realization dawn—she could picture the exit route from here. Sure, locked doors might bar her way, but there’d be no better escape chance than this. Run now?
Gertha stopped and knocked on a door.
Shelk. Shouldn’t have hesitated. Breaking free from the administrator could be bloody, and now she had potential room occupants to contend with too. She stared at the door, daring herself to see through the wood.
The panel creaked open, and Chanda’s smooth features appeared in the gap. “Thanks for bringing the girl, administrator. Wait outside ‘til we’re done."
Gertha pushed Landra inside and blocked the exit with his sentry-like stance. Floral scents, a real-flame fire, subtle wall lights, and three cushioned chairs welcomed her into the room. The contents made it too personal to be a temple office, and a Chanda look-alike painting hung above the fireplace, suggesting this was his private space.
“Stand there,” Chanda told her, pointing to a spot between the chairs.
She did, figuring this wasn’t the right time to fight, or… Hang on a minute. What was this? Landra hadn’t been in such a position before, facing Templer tutors alone and with a weight of magic filling the air. Ossek sat in one seat, legs stretched, arm resting on a support, and a drink balanced between his fingers. Chanda slumped into the second chair, and a wrinkled woman occupied the remaining spot. Her gnarled fingers clutched a dark-leafed staff, and her short legs dangled over the seat’s bulky padding.
The scrutiny discomforted Landra more than an inspection by Trainer Winton. If she survived to return to the candidate level, there’d be no second hesitation for escape. An image of the spiral staircase formed in her thoughts, and she knew where she’d make her stand.
“So, this is her?” the old woman said, poking her staff toward Landra and squinting through myopic eyes.
“Yes, Pedra,” Chanda said.
Landra hadn’t seen the crone before, nor anyone displaying such an unusual aura. Amorphous, swirling colors, drifting edges. Ugh. Makes me feel sick. She glanced aside and spotted Ossek hunching forward on his seat. The glass hovered before his unmoving lips, and his intense stare peered over the top.
Am I supposed to know what’s going on? She tried not to fidget, but darkness took her mood. Have you discovered my name and decided to ransom me back? Gods of the mist, the treaty. What will you do, Father?
Pedra shuffled forward to view Landra through a magnifying tool. Squeaks escaped her lips as she roved the glass up and down. “Hmph.” Another move and then a pause. “Interesting.”
It was too much. Lan
dra had considered the scrutiny would be worse than a Winton inspection, but the comparison didn’t come close. Stumbling through an ant nest had prickled her skin less than this.
Pedra turned to the Templers, accusation etched on her grim face. “What are you hoping to learn from this aura reading?”
Landra wobbled again. Aura reading?
“I’d rather not influence the outcome,” Ossek said.
His deflection earned a reproving glance from Pedra. “Then how can I know what to look for in her Soul?”
Look in my Soul? Aura reading? Bastard, Chanda. You called aura sight an old-world myth, as if you didn’t think it possible. You’re such a liar.
What’s your name, girl?” Pedra asked.
These Templers weren’t Landra’s friends, regardless of what life she wore, so she answered the only possible way. “Lanya Bexter, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s a lie.”
You can see that? Shelk. “I… Lady Templer. Please. I’m not lying.”
“There you go again. Don’t bother, girl. Your Soul shares everything with me.”
Landra wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of an aura reading. She swallowed at the lump in her throat and firmed her edges.
“Ooh,” Pedra said. “Interesting.”
“Did you see something?” Chanda asked, eagerness flowing through his aura in pink streams.
“Patience, young man. You didn’t drag me all the way from New City to check her identity. It’s taken days to get here, and I walked every step. Near killed me. Any trained inquisitor could tell you she’s no Bexter. I’m more interested in why she’s lying.”
“It means nothing,” Ossek said. “Swampers lie.”
“True, but I need to know who she is,” Chanda said. “Look at her coloring. She claims to be the cousin of a Hux, fathered out of town.”
Pedra chuckled. “So, that’s why your aura’s jangling. You’re worried you’ve brought a council agent into the fold.”
